


Stiles Dreams of Swimming

by lovelornwolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-12
Updated: 2012-10-13
Packaged: 2017-11-16 04:05:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 22
Words: 6,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelornwolf/pseuds/lovelornwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things would be mostly okay, except Stiles keeps dreaming about that time in the pool.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Upping the rating to 'Explicit.'

Things would be mostly okay, except Stiles keeps dreaming about that time in the pool. In his dreams he and Derek are swimming together because they want to be. Sometimes Derek just looks at him, sometimes he rubs his nose along Stiles's neck. Sometimes they kiss. Sometimes Derek holds him close, presses their groins together, and Stiles can feel that the werewolf is already hard. But every time, before any clothes can come off, Scott bursts into the pool room and interrupts them.

Stiles has begun harboring some not-so-charitable feelings towards his best friend.

It's in the middle of the night, after one of these frustratingly aborted dreams. Stiles is touching himself, trying to imagine how it might have ended.

"Is this okay?" Derek would say, skinning down Stiles's track pants. Closing his hand around Stiles, gentle but firm.

"Yes, Derek. Please." Stiles would answer, thrusting spasmodically, holding onto Derek's shoulders. Derek's hard-on against his thigh, thick and hot on the other side of his jeans.

Stiles is interrupted a second time, this time by his window opening.

"God DAMMIT Scott," he says, pulling the sheet up to cover himself.

It isn't Scott who slides into the room

"You said my name," Derek says. "I thought you were calling me."

"No," Stiles says. "No I did not." This is not happening. "I was not. Get OUT."

Derek leaves.

Stiles does not touch himself anymore that night—he tells himself that potentially having a grumpy werewolf close enough to hear is not conducive to that activity—but a half hour later the idea of Derek being in his room while he's jerking off has him painfully hard. He curls up gingerly around his erection and tries to sleep.

He doesn't remember any of his other dreams that night, but he wakes up very confused.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott runs into Stiles and is very confused.

Scott is heading to his locker when he bumps into Stiles. There's something off about his friend that morning. Dark circles under his eyes, rumpled clothes. And he reeks of frustration. And sex. And—

"You smell funny," Scott says.

"I know, I slept through my alarm, didn't have time to shower," Stiles says.

"No, I meant—"

"I blame you, you know." Stiles drives a finger at Scott's chest. "If you would just leave us alone for _ten seconds_ —okay, that sounded pathetic, let's go with thirty minutes—this might all be over by now, and I might be able to get a good night's sleep. For once."

"Us? What?" Scott feels even more lost than usual.

"I mean, it's not like I don't see you enough when I'm awake."

Scott pushes him back against the lockers. "You aren't making any sense. Start from the beginning."

"Aw, I cussed you out enough last night." Stiles shrugs. "I'm all cussed out." He pats Scott on the shoulder. "I forgive you, but only because you're my best friend."

The bell rings.

"But tonight you gotta promise to leave us alone," and then Stiles is running off to his next period.

Scott stares after him, mouth open, a furrow between his eyebrows.

What was that.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles falls asleep in chemistry. He's been paired with Danny for the lab portion of the class, which would usually be the highlight of his week, but the lab table is a wayyyyyy more comfortable pillow than he'd ever noticed before, and in half a second he's gone.

Back at the pool. This time, Stiles has his back to the tile wall and Derek is hanging on to the side of the pool, grinding into him. Then they are both naked, and Derek's hand is squeezing their cocks together—awake Stiles had never considered how this might feel—and they are both thrusting and lunging against each other, and Stiles is hoping he doesn't actually come in ten seconds, but he's afraid he really might, and then the flat _THWACK_ of Harris's yardstick against the table is jolting him awake.

Stiles stares at the chemistry teacher. "Why are you here?" Stiles says. "It's usually Scott."

Harris glares. "Are you literally high right now, Stilinski?"

"Uh," Stiles says. He rubs his eyes. "No, not high." Notices that—yep!—he's still hard and hopes Harris doesn't make him stand up anytime soon. "Sorry."

"Stay awake," Harris says, leveling the yardstick at him before heading back to the front of the classroom.

"Dude," Danny says. "Who's Derek?"

"What?"

"You were saying someone's name in your sleep."

"Just, you know. Someone," Stiles says. He glances over at Danny. "I wouldn't mind if you showed up at the pool," he adds. "If you wanted to." He is already half asleep again.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott goes to see Derek about Stiles.

Scott goes to the abandoned train depot after school. Derek is working out alone. He does not look up when Scott walks in.

"Something's up with Stiles," Scott says. "I'm worried."

"Not my problem," Derek says.

Scott lets out a frustrated breath. "I think it might be, though."

Derek shoots him an inquiring look.

"Your problem, I mean."

"He's your friend, not mine," Derek says, going back to bicep curls.

"Then why did he show up at school today _reeking_ of you?"

"What?"

"Not just of you, either. He smelled of you, and sex."

Derek's mouth is open, but nothing is coming out.

"You did something to him last night, didn't you."

"No!" But there is the tiniest of blips in Derek's heartbeat.

"I know you manhandle him all the time. Did it, er, get out of hand this time or something?"

Derek growls. "There was no . . ." he makes a gagging noise. "There was no 'manhandling.' And there sure as fuck wasn't anything else."

"Then are you—" Scott throws his hands out. "I don't know, are you punishing him for something?"

"No, but I'm _this close_ to punishing you for making me have this conversation. Now GET OUT." Derek's eyes are glowing red and his fangs are emerging.

Scott gets out.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles runs into Erica at the grocery store.

Stiles stops by the grocery store on the way home from school. He’s been letting his dad convince him to order out too many nights already this week. Tonight they are going to have a real meal that involves vegetables that are not stir-fried or on a bun.

He runs into Erica—right into her, _wham_ —in the produce section.

“Sorry,” he mutters. He sees the half-full basket hanging from her hand. “Wait, you’re shopping?”

“Yeah,” she says. “It’s my week.”

“I just—I never imagined you grocery shopping before.”

“News flash, genius, we do have to eat.” She narrows her eyes. “Wait, why do you smell so weird?” She leans into his space. “You smell like Derek. And chlorine.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Uh, yeah. You do.” She sniffs. “Also sex.”

“I gotta go,” he says. He grabs an eggplant and hightails it to the register.


	6. Chapter 6

“Hope you know how to cook eggplant, Dad,” he says when he gets home.

His dad looks at him over his glasses. “I know how to deep-fry eggplant.”

“Not exactly what I was going for,” Stiles says. “You keep working. I’ll figure something out.”

He ends up frying it anyway and serving it with pasta.

“You okay, son?” his dad asks after they’ve started eating. “You’re looking a little run-down. You aren’t sick, are you?”

“Just tired,” Stiles says. He yawns. “I’m going to take a shower. Maybe do a little homework, and then go to bed early.”

“Good plan.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

Derek drops by Stiles’s house that evening. Stiles is asleep at his desk, drooling on his homework and talking in his sleep.

“Ooh, you’re dirty,” he mumbles. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you.”

“Stiles.”

“Right there. Harder. Yeah.”

“Stiles.” He reaches out to shake Stiles’s shoulder.

“Derek . . .” Stiles sighs. Still fast asleep. “Won’t let you drown.”

On second thought, maybe it’s better not to touch him. Derek kicks the chair leg instead.

Stiles flails awake. “Wha—?! Huh?? Oh, it’s you.” Stiles looks baleful, and terminally exhausted. “Why are you here.”

“Scott stopped by to see me today,” Derek says.

“So?”

“He’s worried about you.”

Stiles says nothing.

“What were you dreaming about?”

Stiles looks guilty. “Nothing.”

“You said my name.”

“Did I? I don’t think so. It probably just sounded like your name. Your name does sound like a lot of things. Eric. Uh, oil derrick. Barrack.”

“And which of those things were you having a sex dream about?”

“Shut up,” Stiles says. He is bright red. “My sex dreams—my _dreams_ —are none of your business.”

“Scott thinks they might be, and I’m starting to wonder, too.” He sniffs the air. “Why do you reek of chlorine?” Derek doesn’t mention the other smells in the room.

“What? No, I don’t! I just took a shower! What is with you people and the way I smell?” Stiles jumps up and shoves Derek towards the window. “Out. Out! I’ve had enough of this. I’m going to bed.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek dreams.

That night, Derek dreams of the pool. The stench of chlorine, the water lapping at his mouth, and Stiles gasping in his ear. But this time they are both naked. Derek finds that his legs can move now, the pool is a gigantic caress across his whole body, and he pulls Stiles around in front of him. There are beads of moisture on Stiles’s eyelashes and his mouth is open. Derek pulls him close and they are kissing. Stiles is a length of sinuous energy, soft and hard, pressed against him. Their legs entwine.

The water has turned sweet and luminous—it froths around their necks, turning into a stream, a river. Trees loom on either side.

“Stiles,” Derek breathes. He arches, digging his cock into Stiles’s thigh, feels an answering thrust.

The current has caught them, spinning them around, carrying them faster and faster. On one bank Derek sees his pack, loping to keep pace. Isaac with his hand outstretched, Erica calling his name, Boyd growling, eyes alight. On the other bank, Scott is running, shouting.

“Stiles!”

The water rips them apart, and Derek wakes up. He is tangled in his sheets and drenched in sweat. He reeks of sex and chlorine. And Stiles.

“So what was that last night?” Isaac says the next morning. He and Derek don’t sleep anywhere near each other, but werewolf hearing is what it is.

“We aren’t talking about that,” Derek says. To be honest, Derek isn’t sure what the answer would be anyway.

 


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning, Stiles throws his alarm clock across the room. _So tired._ And so horny, too.

He isn’t sure he likes the way the dream is changing. The getting naked part is a nice development, but now Derek’s pack is cock-blocking him, too?

_Assholes._

He’s too late for a shower—again—and too late to jerk off, either, so he’s in a foul mood when he gets to school.

Scott is waiting for him outside when he arrives. “Stiles. Dude. Please tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing’s going on. Just not sleeping well.”

Scott takes his shoulders and tries to stare him in the eye. “I know it has something to do with Derek.”

“What? No it doesn’t.”

Scott just waits.

“Well, not really. It doesn’t really have anything to do with Derek, or with anyone or anything else in real life.”

“What does that mean?” Scott’s jaw is clenched. “It’s a real-life thing that you smell like him, even more strongly than yesterday. Is he—he’s gotta be rubbing himself all over you, for his smell to be this strong. Did he, uh, spend the night or something?”

Stiles shoves Scott away. “No one’s rubbing themselves on anyone, especially not on me. Believe me, if I ever got that far with anyone, you’d be the first to know.”

Scott swallows. “I’d be okay with it,” Scott says. “If it’s what you want. If it makes you happy. You know that, right?”

“Please, not this.”

“But Stiles, you don’t look happy. You look tired, and angry, and you smell—frustrated.”

“No. We are not having this conversation. Nothing is happening, so we aren’t talking about it.”

“Stiles—“

“Go to class, Scott.” And Stiles marches off to first period.

 


	10. Chapter 10

Today he falls asleep at lunch.

This time, he’s in his red warmup suit—like he was that day, he thinks—sitting on one of the starting blocks at the edge of the pool, watching Derek swim and splash in the water. Derek is naked and grinning. It’s the most natural smile Stiles has ever seen on his face.

“Come on in,” the werewolf calls. “The water’s great!”

Stiles’s clothes are gone. He is crouched on the starting block, shivering, and then he is diving into the pool, feeling the water sluice past his bare skin in an endless cool caress. He is surfacing in Derek’s embrace, legs locked around the werewolf’s waist. They are kissing. His erection is pressing into Derek’s abdomen; the head of Derek’s cock is nudging at his asshole.

“I want this,” Stiles says.

Derek nods, and begins pushing his way inside.

“STILES.” Scott is shaking him awake.

“What?” He looks around.

Allison is frozen on the other side of the table, a sandwich halfway to her mouth. Jackson is staring at him, repulsed, and one of Lydia’s eyebrows is raised.

“You were . . . making noises,” Allison says.

“Sex noises.” Jackson shudders. “Seriously, Stilinski, I’m gonna need therapy.”

“Who were you dreaming about?” Lydia asks. She looks around. “And _why_ does it smell like a swimming pool in here all of a sudden?”

 


	11. Chapter 11

Scott makes sure to sit behind Stiles in fifth period, and every time he sees his friend droop he pokes him in the ribs.

“Stay awake!” he whispers. “You are not repeating your lunchtime performance for our English class.”

Stiles scowls, but he does try to sit up straighter in his chair.

Scott has sixth period with Allison.

“How’s Stiles?” she asks.

“Hard to say,” Scott says. “He kept almost falling asleep in English.”

She shoots him a horrified look. “He didn’t cause a scene, did he?”

“No, I kept him awake. I don’t know about this hour, though.”

“What do you think is going on with him?”

“All I know is, it has something to do with Derek.” Scott coughs. “And sex.”

“ _Derek?_ ”

Scott shrugs. “I don’t have an explanation for it, but it seems pretty clear.”

Stiles turns up for practice at the right time, although he looks like he’s going to fall asleep standing up any second.

“Hey, buddy,” Scott says, patting him on the shoulder. “How’re you holding up?”

Stiles just glares at him and yawns. “I still haven’t forgiven you for any of this,” he says.

“Forgiven me for what?”

“ _You_ know.”

But Scott is pretty sure he doesn’t.

Isaac comes up while they’re changing. “Uh, hey, Stiles.” He glances around. “Are you and Derek—“

“NO,” Stiles says. “We aren’t. Because _you_ and your stupid _pack_ keep getting in the way. Not to mention my best friend—“ Here he shoves Scott against the lockers. “I just—“ His face crumples. “It would be okay if you’d just leave me alone.” And he gathers up all of his stuff and storms out of the locker room.

The entire team watches him go, open mouthed.

Finstock takes Scott aside. “Is there something I should know about Bilinski?”

“Uh, he’s going through a hard time?”

“Anything else?”

“Nothing you want to hear,” Scott says.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Finstock says. He raises his voice. “Well what is everyone waiting for? Get your asses out on the field!”

 


	12. Chapter 12

Isaac comes back from practice looking pensive.

“Derek, I know you said we weren’t going to talk about this—“

“No,” Derek says. “We really _aren’t_ going to talk about it.”

“Talk about what?” Erica says. “About you and Stiles?”

“No.” Derek puts his hands over his ears. “No, no, no, no, NO.” He can still hear her, though.

“How long has it been going on, anyway?” she’s saying. “I can’t believe you kept it from me until yesterday.”

“What happened yesterday?” Isaac asks.

“Ran into Stiles at the grocery store. I could hardly believe my nose—he smelled like—“

“NO.”

“—Derek, and sex. And swimming pool water, but that might have been something else.”

Isaac nods. “He showed up at practice looking like a zombie. Dark circles under his eyes. And he blew up at me and Scott—said it was our fault for keeping him and Derek apart.”

“What?” Derek looks up. “We aren’t together. We aren’t trying to be together. We _don’t even like each other._ ”

Erica and Isaac both shrug.

“We know,” says Erica.

“But something’s going on between you,” Isaac says. “It’s obvious.”

Derek lets out a snarl and flees. It’s time to get things straight with Stiles.

 


	13. Chapter 13

Stiles can’t get to sleep. He’s been dozing off anywhere and everywhere for the past two days, but now he’s wide awake and tossing and turning in his bed. Wide awake and probably dying from exhaustion.

He’s almost relieved when he hears his window slide open.

“Can’t get enough of me, can you,” he says bitterly.

He hears Derek come over to the bed. Feels him sit down on the edge. Hears him sigh.

“Stiles.”

His name sounds almost warm in Derek’s mouth. He turns over. Derek is looking at him.

“I’m going crazy,” Stiles says. “Aren’t I?”

“If you are, I guess I am too.”

They look at each other for a moment. Derek holds out his hand. Stiles takes it.

“Why is this happening?” Stiles asks.

“I don’t know, but—“ Derek moves closer and lies down next to him. “I don’t think I want it to stop.”

“Me neither.” He snuggles closer to Derek’s scorching body heat, turns over so he’s the little spoon. “Hold me?”

Derek throws an arm around Stiles’s waist. “Go to sleep. I’ll be right here.”

And Stiles sleeps.

 


	14. Chapter 14

Derek didn’t mean to fall asleep, but he finds himself in the pool anyway. It is outdoors this time, and the water is fresh and clean and cold. A forest pool in the mountains.

He is on his back, floating at the very surface of the water, as if he were on the world’s largest water bed. Stiles is curled up next to him, loose and relaxed despite the cool temperature. They are naked, but there is none of the urgency of before. Derek runs a hand up Stiles’s back; Stiles rubs his cheek against Derek’s shoulder. They kiss, and look at each other.

On the bank, everyone is waiting—Scott, Allison, Jackson, Lydia. Isaac, Erica and Boyd. Sheriff Stilinski. Laura, Peter and the rest of Derek’s family. They are laughing and talking, and maybe—it’s hard to be sure—eating and drinking.

Laura looks over and waves. Derek waves back.

When they’re ready, they will get out and join the others. There is no hurry.


	15. Chapter 15

When Stiles wakes up, Derek is snoring into his neck, and his dad is sitting in his desk chair, watching them.

“Uh. Hey, Dad,” Stiles says.

“Son.” The sheriff does not look happy, but at least he doesn’t have his gun out.

“What’s up?”

“You mind telling me why I walked in on you taking a nap with Derek Hale?”

“Well. I wasn’t feeling well, so . . .” He stops. “On second thought, ah, no, I will not try to explain this.”

“Uh-huh.”

Derek wakes up behind him and goes still when he sees Stiles’s dad.

“Derek,” the sheriff says.

“Sheriff Stilinski,” Derek says.

“My son says he has no explanation for this, er, situation. Do you?”

“He couldn’t sleep,” Derek says. “I offered to keep him company.” He shrugged. “I guess it worked?”

“Stiles, can you at least tell me how long this has been going on?”

“This is absolutely, 100% the first time, Dad,” Stiles says. “This has never happened before.”

“Okay. Well, Derek, I’m sorry to disturb your slumber, but I’m going to ask you to leave now.”

Derek got up. Stiles grabbed his hand.

“We still need to have a talk,” he says.

Derek nods.

Stiles’s dad clears his throat.

Derek says, “I gotta go. Don’t worry. We’ll talk.”

The sheriff says, “Stay here,” to Stiles and walks Derek down to the front door. Stiles can hear muffled voices, but he can’t hear what they’re saying. He hopes his dad isn’t threatening Derek with bodily harm.

When his dad gets back he looks extremely awkward.

“Stiles, you know I want you to be happy. But for god’s sake. Derek is, what, eight years older than you?”

“Six.”

“What?”

Stiles sighs. “Six years older.”

“I mean, if he was eighteen, that would be one thing.”

“Dad.”

“Might even be legal, depending. But six years? Not remotely legal.”

“Dad.”

“Still, if he makes you happy—Son, is he good to you? He hasn’t pressured you into anything, has he?”

“Dad, this was literally the first time anything at all has happened. We haven’t touched. We haven’t kissed. We took a nap together. We're just . . . friends?”

“Uh-huh. Do you take naps with Scott? In the same bed? Spooning each other?”

“. . . No.”

“So this is different. And from the look of it, it’s serious. Whether you feel comfortable admitting it to your dad or not.” The sheriff let out a long breath. “I’ve always known you would start having sex eventually, but this is not exactly how I pictured it going down.”

Stiles buries his face in his hands. He feels his dad rub his shoulder.

“We’ll talk about this later, okay? I’m gonna head down and make dinner.”

Stiles is kinda hoping, but Derek doesn’t show up again that night. Except in his dreams, but none of them involve the pool.


	16. Chapter 16

Stiles wakes up the next morning before his alarm, feeling almost human. He thinks of the normal dreams he had that night, then of Derek holding him yesterday afternoon. Of Derek’s breath on the back of his neck.

He is not surprised when he gets hard at the thought, just shucks down his pajamas and jerks off, imagining Derek’s weight pressing him into the mattress, Derek’s mouth and tongue against his. A minute later, he comes copiously, splattering his face and pillow. He hopes he lasts longer his first time with Derek.

Scott tries to sniff him before school, but Stiles holds him off.

“No. No more of that. It’s degrading.”

“You still smell like Derek,” Scott says. “But it doesn’t burn my nose like it did before.” He looks hopeful.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says. “Derek was worried about me, after you and everyone else complained, so he made sure I took a nap yesterday.” He smiles. “Must’ve been what I needed, because I’m doing great now.”

Scott looks unconvinced, but he doesn’t pursue it.

Allison corners him between first and second period. “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” she says, “but I’m still worried. This is a new thing for you, right? Are you remembering to be safe?”

“Allison,” he groans.

“I’m serious, Stiles! And I don’t just mean condoms. Derek could really hurt you if he isn’t careful. Scott and I—”

“OH GOD NO.”

“Just listen—“

“I’m going to leave before you tell me your safe word,” he says, and runs away.


	17. Chapter 17

The guys tease him a little at practice for yesterday’s outburst, but he just blushes and grins and blames it on low blood sugar.

Afterwards he drives out to the train depot. Derek is leaning against one of the ratty couches waiting for him when he gets inside.

“Hey you,” Stiles says.

“Stiles.”

He walks over and sits down on the couch. Derek sits next to him.

“So,” Stiles says, but he realizes he has no idea how to begin talking about what is going on.

“I know you’ve been dreaming about . . . the pool,” Derek says.

“You do?” Stiles gapes. “How do you know that?”

“Because I can put two and two together.” Derek gives him a half-smile. “And because I’ve started dreaming about it, too.”

Stiles thinks about this. “How . . . why is this happening? I don’t—okay, breathe, I can do this—I don’t know what your dreams have been like, but—“

Derek carefully puts out a hand and runs his fingers down Stiles’s cheek. “For the past twenty-four hours I’ve been consumed with the idea of touching you. Of kissing you. Of making love to you.”

“Really?” It comes out as a squeak, and Stiles clears his throat, feeling himself flush.

“Really.” And Derek is leaning towards him, and their lips are touching and _Derek is kissing him._

At first it is just a gentle pressure, mouth against mouth, Derek’s hands on the sides of his face, then his lips are parting and Derek’s tongue is brushing his.

A minute or so later Stiles breathes again. He pulls back and looks Derek in the eye. “If you are fucking with me I swear I’ll kill you.”

“No.” Derek kisses him again. “This is real. At least for me.” He looks serious.

“Wow.”

Now Derek is grinning. “Yeah.” It’s the same easy, wide, delighted smile from Stiles’s dreams.

Stiles smiles back. “So, don’t take this the wrong way, but . . . this couch is probably a health hazard. Do you think we could move this to somewhere more comfortable?”

“Uh, I’ve got a bed,” Derek says. “It’s not much, but it’s clean.” He pauses. “Relatively.”

Derek leads him back to what must have been some kind of office or stock room when the depot was in use. He's converted it into a small living space, with a little hot plate, an armchair, and a sleeping area.

Stiles plops down on the edge of the bed. The sheets smell like Derek, an intoxicating mélange of earth, sunlight, smoke and musk. Stiles is immediately hard. He grabs the werewolf’s hand and pulls him down on top of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just four more scenes and an epilogue. Almost done!


	18. Chapter 18

The scent of Stiles has clung to him for the past day, but the real thing is so much more satisfying. He breathes it in—teenage sweat, male funk, and horniness. Derek rubs his mouth under the corner of Stiles's jaw, hears the catch of breath, feels the nervous gulp. Brings out a fang and runs it down the side of his neck.

"Oh god," he hears Stiles mutter, feels him twist and arch up. The stink of arousal grows thicker.

Stiles's hands are under his shirt, running up his flanks, kneading his back. Stiles's hard-on is a bone, a rod, digging into his belly. Derek pulls back and strips his shirt off. Stiles's mouth is open in wonder, eyes darting across Derek's chest, his shoulders.

Derek goes to remove Stiles's shirt as well, ignoring the muttered protest.

"If my shirt is off, yours has to be, too," he says. "It's the rules." He tugs the tee off over Stiles's head.

The teenager is trying to cover his paleness with his hands. "If the world were fair, I wouldn't be lying here looking like this while you look like—like that."

Derek lowers his head and licks a stripe from Stiles's belt to his throat.

" _Asshole,_ " Stiles mutters.

Then he is catching Derek's face and kissing him, pressing up between the werewolf's thighs to bring their crotches together, letting their erections slide over and past one another. Derek drives down, thrusting back, a high whine sounding in his throat.

"I want you naked," Derek says, his voice hoarse.

"You first." Stiles is biting his lip. He shrugs. "It's the rules."

Derek snorts. "Fine." He gets off the bed and slowly undoes his belt, then the button of his jeans. Slips his thumbs under the waistband and slides them down. His cock bounces up and slaps against his belly.

"Nnnghghhhh," says Stiles. He coughs. "No underwear?"

"Not today," Derek says. He takes his dick in hand, pulls back his foreskin, lets it creep back. "Your turn," he growls, leaping on top of Stiles and ripping his jeans down as fast as possible. Stiles's cock is straining against his white cotton boxers, and the cloth at the head is almost transparent with precum. Derek licks the wet spot and Stiles spasms and groans.

"Please," Stiles says. "I'm so close, I want to last longer than this."

Derek ignores him, carefully freeing Stiles's cock and slipping the boxers off. He buries his face next to Stiles's balls, breathing in his scent. Then, before the teenager can move, he takes his cock into his mouth.

Stiles grunts like he is in pain, and then he is coming down Derek's throat.

When Derek has finished swallowing it all, he looks up to see that Stiles has covered his face with his hands.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

Stiles's voice is muffled. "I'm so . . . _mortified_. How is this even possible. I want to die."

Derek grins and pulls his hands out of the way so he can kiss him. "Stiles. It was perfect. Incredibly hot. And you taste and smell—" He sighs, feels his breath catch. "—so good." He kisses Stiles again. "Don't worry. We aren't done."

 


	19. Chapter 19

Derek is kissing him seriously now. They are naked on the bed, and Derek's cock is nestled against his thigh. There's no humping, just a determined exploration of Stiles's mouth and neck—firm kisses, with a bit of teeth here and there, a muscular tongue lapping and probing at his skin and lips. And Derek's weight shifting against him, holding him against the bed, keeping him anchored _here_ and _now_.

Real-life sex is a bit more awkward than dream sex, Stiles is learning, but somehow it's even hotter.

He slips a hand down between them and grips Derek's cock, stroking it clumsily. Derek's mouth freezes against his throat, and then he is thrusting back, his breath hot on Stiles's skin. Derek is dripping on him, hot splashes of precum.

"I want—" Derek says. "Want to be inside you."

"I want you inside me too," Stiles whispers. "Do you, uh. You got anything that can help with that?"

Derek doesn't say anything, just reaches off the side of the bed and pulls back his hand with a bottle of lube. He cracks it open, pauses, and looks at Stiles.

"How do you want to do this?" he asks.

"Uh. Maybe you should let me start out," Stiles says. He takes the lube from Derek and spills some on his hand, smears it up and down his ring finger. "Okay." He's done this before, but nervousness is making him tighter than usual. He breathes, and presses the tip of his finger against the ring of his hole. Feels the sphincter kiss open slightly, feels the fingertip lap inside just barely, then the muscle squeezes shut again. He pushes harder, grinding back against the pressure, bearing down, and then his finger is inside.

He has rarely been this turned on in his life—Derek is still breathing on his neck, watching avidly as he fingers himself—and the pleasure that suffuses his lower abdomen is new, is so much more than he's ever felt. He thrusts inside himself, waiting as his anus relaxes, accommodates the foreign presence. He pulls out.

"Okay," he says. "Your turn."

He hands Derek the lube, watches as he smears a forefinger with it. Derek hesitates, and Stiles grabs his wrist and pulls his hand down between his legs.

"Yes," he says, and then Derek's finger is inside him, thicker and rougher than his own but even better and now Derek is kissing him and fucking him with his finger and the waves of pleasure are threatening to suffocate him. "Okay," he gasps. "Now."

Derek pulls back. Picks the bottle back up, drips lube all over his cock, strokes it from tip to balls. More lube, and now Derek's cock is wet dripping precum and lube. Now Derek is lifting Stiles's legs, pressing the head of his cock against Stiles's hole and NOW—-

Stiles hadn't dared it believe it would be easy, but in an instant Derek is all the way in, pressing at Stiles from inside. So thick that it feels like his organs are stretching to make room, that his skin is tight as a drum. He is about to start keening with need. "Move, goddammit," he grunts, and Derek presses in, tantalizing, pulls slowly out. Stiles thinks he may twist his way out of his skin, he's so turned on.

"FUCK. ME," he grits out and his ankles are locked behind Derek's back and he is urging him in and on, and Derek is thrusting and it is the best and most complete experience Stiles has ever had. Derek's stuttering breaths, the feel of his muscles flexing under his skin, his cock—oh god, his cock—inside of Stiles, the hot kisses and bites on Stiles's neck: this is where Stiles's life has been leading him, he thinks.

And then he is coming, a rising wave of heat that licks through him and now blazes up, burning and consuming everything from his ass to his cock to his lips to his fingers to his toes. Stiles arches his back and comes and comes and comes.

Derek grunts—"so hot, you are so hot"—and then he is coming as well, driving balls-deep into Stiles, muscles locked and spasming. They collapse against each other, out of breath, sweat pouring off their skin into the sheets.

 


	20. Chapter 20

Stiles doesn't say anything afterwards, just lies there, little-spooning Derek again, breathing quietly.

"You okay?" Derek asks.

"Yeah," Stiles says, but Derek can hear a dark undercurrent in there somewhere. He pulls Stiles close, squeezes him until he hears him whine in discomfort.

"What's wrong?" He nuzzles at the back of Stiles's neck, bites gently at the skin. "Tell me."

"You said this was real," Stiles says.

"I did," Derek says. "It is."

Stiles wiggles his way out of Derek's grip, turns over to look him in the eye. "But where did it come from? How can either of us trust what's happening?"

Derek shakes his head. "Come from? Where would it come from?"

Stiles sighs. "I started dreaming about you before I even knew I wanted this. You don't think that's weird?"

"No." Derek grins. "I think we've both been hungering for each other for a while, but we hadn't admitted it to ourselves."

"You don't think we might be . . . under a spell?" He is almost whispering. When Derek laughs, his fearful look turns into a glare.

"Stiles, there's no such thing as magic," Derek says. "Trust me."

"What? How can there be werewolves without magic?"

"Just because you don't understand something yet doesn't mean it's magic."

"And Dr. Deaton? The mountain ash?"

"Natural properties," Derek says. "Deaton just understands them and knows how to use them to achieve certain . . . effects."

"Uh-huh." Stiles does not sound convinced, but he relaxes slightly and nestles back into Derek's arms.

Derek brushes his lips against Stiles's neck. "You really need to stop selling yourself short," he rumbles. "You are worth my time." He nips at Stiles's throat. "Say it. Say you're worth my time."

Stiles squirms. "I don't want to lie to you," he says.

Derek growls.

"Okay, okay, I'm worth your time."

Derek licks his chin and smiles.

"I'm still a little confused about what this is, though," Stiles says. "I mean, this was the hottest, best experience I've ever had, but—"

"Want to go get pizza?" Derek says.

"What?"

"I'm asking you on a date."

"Oh." Stiles cocks his head. "Okay. Yes." He smiles, a sweet, sleepy curve of his lips that makes Derek's throat lock up.

"Good," he croaks. "Because I'm not ready to say goodbye yet. And . . . I want this to be real."

 


	21. Chapter 21

Stiles's entire body is humming with happiness, but it all turns into embarrassment when they walk out of Derek's office/bedroom. The three betas are waiting for them in the depot, lolling on the tattered couches and pretending not to know anything is going on.

"Oh, hey there," Erica says. Her eyes are wide and innocent. Boyd is stone-faced next to her.

Isaac smiles guilelessly at Stiles and Derek. "So—are you guys . . . together now? I mean, officially?"

Derek growls. "We are going out. We can talk about, er, _us_ when we get back."

Somehow—Stiles doesn't know how—he and Derek aren't at the pizza joint for two minutes before Derek's pack waltzes nonchalantly through the door, followed by Scott and Allison. They all wave and go take a booth across the restaurant. Derek looks thunderous.

Stiles takes his hand. "It's okay. We'll just pretend they're not there—"

"It's hard when they're busy whispering encouragement to me," Derek snarls. He looks over and flashes a red glare in the direction of the other booth, where everyone suddenly disappears behind their menus.

"Well, I don't need any encouragement," Stiles says, and he is leaning across the table and pulling on Derek's hand and their lips are meeting again. Hoots and hollers from the other table, but Stiles ignores this distraction, concentrating on kissing Derek the best he can.

After a few seconds he feels Derek grinning against his lips.

"All right, maybe this will work out after all," Derek says. He glares over at his betas. "But our next date is going to be just me and Stiles. Is that clear?"

 


	22. Parting Shot

Across the street, in a nondescript car, a woman with long, straight brown hair is watching the window of the pizza restaurant through a pair of binoculars. Next to her in the passenger seat a dark-skinned man with a salt-and-pepper goatee is looking quietly satisfied.

"Well, I must say I was skeptical," she says in an impassive voice. "But the spell seems to have worked."

"You know I don't like the word 'spell,'" the man says. "They were halfway there. I just had to give things a little nudge."

"Right." The woman lowers the binoculars and gives him a tolerant look. "Let's just hope your 'little nudge' ends up being enough. Those two will need each other in the days ahead."

"It will be enough. It'll have to be."

She starts the car and they drive off. Behind them, framed in the window, Derek and Stiles are holding hands and talking animatedly.

It will have to be enough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally done! Hope you guys liked it.


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